


Surviving

by frek



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canonical Character Death, M/M, POV First Person, Sirius/Remus Fuh-Q-Fest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-07-07
Updated: 2003-07-07
Packaged: 2017-10-28 08:40:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/306004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frek/pseuds/frek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remus speaks of life after Sirius.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Surviving

**Author's Note:**

> While Faded Memories was the first fic I wrote, this is the first one to get posted. I wrote this originally for the Remus/Sirius Fuh-Q-Fest in 2003.

It all happened so fast. I heard his laugh and I turned around and he was gone. Wide-eyed, he fell through the veil. I couldn’t believe it; not Harry’s cries or my own voiceless scream stuck in my throat. Within moments my entire life had withered down to nothing. That’s what I had left to live for. The only man I’ve ever loved was gone.

I couldn’t dwell on it, couldn’t cry, couldn’t look past the arch and see his face. Sirius was gone. It was difficult enough for me not to jump through after him, to choose the easy path. No, I didn’t follow him. No matter how much I wanted to, I stayed behind. Stayed for the Order; I stayed for Harry. They needed me, as much as I needed him. He was beyond my reach now; I couldn’t help him.

For weeks afterward I couldn’t do much else but dwell on his death. The great news that the Ministry had finally admitted to Voldemort’s return didn’t even give me the slightest satisfaction. Not knowing that he wasn’t here to share it with me. He would’ve been so pleased to hear that Fudge had to eat his own words. He would’ve been so happy to know that we made it happen, but he wasn’t. He wasn’t here anymore. He would never know.

The house hasn’t been the same. His mother’s portrait has refused to shut up since his death. “I told you. Serves him right, helping out those filthy half breeds. He should have listened to me. He would not be where he is if he had.” Several times I walked past that portrait and only managed to contain the fire engulfing charm that I wanted so desperately to hit her with.

I walk around aimlessly at night, unable to sleep. I can’t sleep. If I sleep, I’ll dream, and I can’t allow myself to dream. He’s in my dreams, disappearing from me. Again and again. I can’t relive it; it was hard enough the first time.

The Order continues to move on in pursuit of Voldemort. They’re getting closer to their goal. I’ve been little help to their struggle. I’ve taken his place. I can’t bring myself to leave the house, to vacate the only place left that holds his imprint. I lay down in his bed at night, breathing in his scent. I know soon it’ll be all but gone, my own replacing it. I have an urge to bottle that scent and keep it near me at all times. I need some trace of him in my life.

So many times I’ve had the need to seek out that archway. I’ve wondered if what Harry said was true. Could I talk to him through there? Would I be able to see him again? Would I want to?

Our photo albums, containing pictures from when we were growing up, have become worn and tattered in a matter of weeks. The pages wrinkled with the dampness of my tears. They’re beginning to fray around the edges, smudges around the photos, the protection charms I had on them wore off ages ago. I couldn’t be bothered to put new ones on, and so the photo that I keep in my possession at all times has become so ragged it’s a wonder it’s still intact.

They’ve all tried to sympathise with me. They’ve tried their best to care. But none of them understand. I lost Sirius once for 13 years, reunited with him, only for him to be taken away from me once again. This time it was permanent. There was no chance of walking through the door to see a smile on his face, his hair in his eyes, his face unshaven. Nothing.

I won’t be falling asleep with his arm holding me firmly to his side. I won’t be interrupted from the paper to receive a soft kiss on the lips. I won’t be intruded upon while dressing to catch that feral glint in his eyes. I won’t be able to look forward to his presence anymore. The only thing I have to look forward to is several years laid before me. Long. Vast. Pointless. Without my Sirius.

Voldemort could fall, my condition slip away, his mother’s portrait spontaneously combust. None of it will mean anything to me, make any difference. Not without him in my life. He was what made these last few years worthwhile. He was the one who kept me living, striving, moving on. Without him, how can I?

I look back on my past. The pain. The hate. The betrayals and the lies. All of it, leading up to this moment. I’m the only one left. The only marauder left to live on. James' death hurt me. I couldn’t bear to think about him and Lily for weeks afterward. Imagining Harry all alone, not knowing his parents, only having those muggles to care for him didn’t make things better. And just days later, losing him and Peter. Both were gone in a flash, gone in a blinding moment where he betrayed us all. But he didn’t. It was Peter. And once again, I was redeemed; I had something to live for. Once again, I had Sirius.

I caught him up on recent events and cried over our past. He held me and told me he was here for me now. I fell in love with him all over again, remembering why I had fallen for him in the first place. I told him I loved him. He said he knew and kissed me gently. Running my fingers through his long hair I was transported to a time when this was normal, but it wasn’t like that anymore. To be in his presence was such an extraordinary thing. To be kissing him again, talking, caressing, loving him again was a wonder in itself. And for two brief years I had him and he had me. Life was liveable once again.

And in those two years I had become so attached to him that my loss was intensified even more so. He had become everything to me, and more. He was the one I came to with my concerns. He was the one who could wipe those all away with just the touch of his hand or a twitch of those lips. All he needed to do was whisper in my ear or run his fingers down my arm and I was calmed. No one has ever been able to do that to me. He knew me so well. Just as I knew him.

There was no leaving him behind that night. His concern for Harry was just as high as my concern for him. All he worried about was saving Harry, keeping him out of harm's way. I allowed him to come, I couldn’t bring myself to leave him there, deny him his chance to feel needed. No. I let him go. I paved the way for his death.

When it came down to it, he fought. And he did. He fought more bravely and fiercely than any one of us there. But he had gotten too cocky, too eager. And in an instant he was gone. I turned just in time to see him go. I heard Harry scream his name over and over, each syllable another knife into my soul. I felt my world crumble to pieces around me. And while I held Harry back, all I wanted was to go after him. I didn’t think I’d be able to go on without him here. But I was wrong. I’m still living. Maybe it’s not what he would call living, but I’m here none the less. I’m breathing. I’m surviving. And I miss Sirius terribly.


End file.
